


The One That's Going to Get Me Killed

by FangIsland, Walsingham



Series: The Prophecy of Mr Byrne [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, British Comedy RPF
Genre: Different Class, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangIsland/pseuds/FangIsland, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walsingham/pseuds/Walsingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>That Emo stuff that’s the one that’s going to get me opened up with a Stanley knife by some misunderstood fifteen year old in a grey V-neck with chewed sleeves. Just gonna come at me at stage door one night and go 'Who's laughing now, Mr Comedian?'. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One That's Going to Get Me Killed

**Author's Note:**

> Any unoriginal material used was borrowed from 'Ed Byrne: Different Class' and belongs solely to Ed Byrne.

    _Getting stepped-to by an Emo._ _You're an Emo, for Christ's sake!_ _I think that between the two of us we both know who you're most likely to harm._

_Well I'm glad you liked that one, 'cause that's the one that's going to get me killed._

 ---

   Ed Byrne stood just inside the stage door, checking he hadn't left anything in the dressing room before he left the venue for the final time. He got out his phone just as he opened the heavy door, intending to text Dara, and stepped out into the dark London backstreet, the phone screen lighting up his face as his thin fingers flitted over the small touch-screen keyboard. He heard the door thud closed behind him as he paused to finish the text. He was just about to tap 'send' when an arm was at his throat, garbling the end of the message before it sent.

   Eyes wide, Ed's fingernails scratched at the grey, frayed and vaguely damp sleeve, trying to force words through his flattened windpipe. The kid, who looked as though he could be no older than sixteen, pushed the comedian further back until his head whacked into wall right beside the stage door, the handle digging into his side. His square-framed glasses fell off his thin nose and landed with a crunch in the shadows. Ed was still struggling against the boy's strong grip when the flash of a Stanley knife made him freeze, hand falling to his sides. The light of a street lamp reflected onto it as it disappeared, and Ed's fingers tried to find purchase on the rough wall. His eyes rolled around manically in his search for the knife until it reappeared above his head, held tightly in the boy's hand. Ed shook his head pleadingly, the little amount of air going through his windpipe coming out as a single word, repeated over and over.

   "No, no, no…" he begged, legs weakening. His eyes didn't leave the blade as it neared its mark.

   "Who's laughing now, Mr Comedian?"

 ---

_And it'll be grainy mobile phone footage of me telling that joke on Sky news with a voiceover going 'It was thought this is the routine about Emos that pushed young Quentin over the edge, causing him to slaughter the bespectacled funny man.' Cause even in my wildest fantasies about my untimely death it doesn’t make the BBC news, did you see that? Yeah Sky'll have to do._

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I do not take offence to Mr Byrne's joke, and advise that no one else do either. Please also note that this is a work of fiction, and I do not wish to cause Mr Byrne harm myself and do not wish to see harm done to him.


End file.
